


Gimme Your Hands

by JustAnotherNarrator



Series: The Bowie Trilogy [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Carol is Protective, with the addition of OFC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNarrator/pseuds/JustAnotherNarrator
Summary: It had been nearly a month now, nearly a month of mourning Beth and Bob and then Tyreese. Nearly a month since they'd piled up into vans and began looking for something else out here. Nearly a month since they'd left the Georgia/South Carolina state line behind and with it, his last hope of seeing Michelle again. [A Sequel to As the World Falls Down]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the summary, this is a sequel to my first story, _As the World Falls Down_ , if you haven't read it, it might be best to go back and do so. Also, a fair bit of warning that I feel the need to mention in all my author's notes: this story could be abandoned at any point since I have the unfortunate habit of not finishing the stories I start. And with that, I hope you enjoy!

They were running. Running past trees, jumping over creeks, their footsteps echoing around them as they hurried away from the unseen threat and somehow, he felt more alive than he had in a long time. The sun was high in the sky, his crossbow hit his back with each foot fall, and he was feeling like himself again. It had been quite sometime since this last happened, to the point where he'd began to doubt it ever be again. But there he was, running, sweating his ass off and loving every second of it. And maybe, it had something to do with the company.

Glancing over his shoulder, he found Michelle smiling back at him behind the protection of her gas mask. To have her there, just a few steps away was definitely playing a large part in his lifted spirit. Looking ahead again, he quickly dodged a large tree, resting his back against it as he waited for her to join him. He was just catching his breath when he noticed it was taking her too long, she should be there already. With a quick peak around the tree, his heart dropped, she was gone.

The noise came from behind and he spun around, a bolt leaving his crossbow without him even having to think about it and the walker collapsed to ground. Except it wasn't a walker. It was her.

Daryl woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweats and with dank hair clinging to his face. Trying to catch his breath, he sat up on the couch where he'd been sleeping since they gotten to Alexandria; technically, he had a room upstairs in the house he'd been sharing with Carol, but sleeping up there just didn't feel right. Not much about this whole Safe Zone situation did, really... Passing his hands through his hair, he pushed himself up, knowing very well he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Not after one of those increasingly regular nightmares. He never used to have problems sleeping, but recently, loads of things had changed and he just wasn't sure if he'd been ready for all that.

It had been nearly a month now, nearly a month of mourning Beth and Bob and then Tyreese. Nearly a month since they'd piled up into vans and began looking for something else out there. Nearly a month since they'd left the Georgia/South Carolina state line behind and with it, his last hope of seeing Michelle again.

They'd made their way up to Virginia, to take Noah home and that had been a dead-end in the worst sense of the word. They'd lost all vehicles and found themselves with no water, no food and no hope on the side of some road. They'd all began dealing with their losses, all of them in their own ways. He had tried to ignore his for the longest time, to be numb to them until Carol had come in and forced him to look them in the eyes. He had bawled his eyes out for Beth, for not having been able to save her when he had the chance and he had raged at the universe for taking two of the most important people in his life away in less than a day. It was then that he realized that the universe had not taken Michelle away, that she'd chosen to do that on her own and for a few days there, he was able to hate her and that had made everything much easier. Except for the fact it did last.

Her leaving like that, right after Beth's death, had made him feel as if, to her, he hadn't been worth sticking around for and, despite how some of his insecurities would have agreed with that idea, he had replayed their last conversation in his mind enough time to come to the conclusion that it wasn't true. That fateful morning, she'd been about to ask him something when her eyes had left his face and landed on the church behind him, where the rest of the group, the rest of his family, had been sleeping. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he had the feeling she had meant to ask him to go with her, something she knew he wouldn't do because he'd never leave the rest of the group. Hell, they were the only reason why he was still around now, when he would feel much more at home in the woods outside the large walls.

From the moment he had come to that realization though, she'd been on his mind again and he couldn't help but still worry for her. Had she made it to New York City? Was she home, putting flowers on her sister's tomb? If she was still alive that was... No, she had to be. She was a survivor and it wasn't worth thinking about the other alternative.

Stepping out the front door, he took a seat on the steps, as the sun began to rise above the east wall. He looked up and down the street, all those houses, and those people inside who had no idea what was really happening out there. All those people who looked at him like some sort of freak, something he hadn't felt since before the world went crazy. He hated this place and how it was changing everything, and everyone around him, but as he'd told that Deanna woman when she'd first interviewed him, Carl and Judith deserved a safe place. As long as his family chose to remain here, so would he.

He light up a cigarette and as he took a first drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs, he watched the large gate, itching to get to the other side of it. He tried to ignore the little voice at the back of his head, the one that sounded very much like Joe, the leader of the Claimers, telling him about outdoor cats trying to become indoor ones. One more day and he'd be on the other side again on his second time out with Aaron. Hopefully, something better than a dead horse would come out of this one...


	2. Chapter 2

It was around 10 O'clock in the morning as he sat in the old rusted car while Aaron said goodbye to Eric, keeping his eyes on the gate that was about to open as the two of them exchanged a quick kiss. Despite what some people likely assumed when they saw him, Daryl didn't have a problem with two men kissing, mainly his discomfort laid in two people kissing. He'd never been much for physical contact except in rare cases, and witnessing public displays of affection somehow still made him feel like an awkward teenager.

As he climbed in the driver's seat, Aaron apologized a little sheepishly, quickly going on to explain that Eric was worried about him going out there. Waving the whole thing off with the back of his hand, Daryl grumbled to him not to worry about it as one of the younger Alexandrians - Aiden, he thought his name was - opened the gate for them. With a quick nod as they went by, they were finally outside the wall and right away, he felt more comfortable.

The goal was simple: to go out and try to find new people to bring back to the community. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, if he was perfectly honest but if it allowed him to be out of the walls and away from all those people who eyed him like he was some sort of alien, he was happy to help. Aaron had explained that whenever Eric and him came upon anyone, they would mostly observe and make a decision based on what they saw but that he was opened to any suggestions Daryl might have about the process. He had mentioned the three questions that they'd used went they'd brought people in back at the prison and they'd agreed to use those as well. After all, they'd obviously worked well enough for their group not to be joined by some unsavory characters.

Another thing they were to do while out here was to keep their eyes peeled for possible places that had not been scavenged from yet. Anyone outside the walls were to be on the lookout for anything the community could use, from food, to fuel, to building materials, to freaking pasta makers, etc. Today, they were headed west. Aaron and Eric had already reached most areas to the north and east that were within a day's drive of Alexandria and now, the two of them would be continuing the sweep. Mostly, it would mean driving for a bit and then getting out of the car and walking, looking for signs of people.

By late afternoon, it was starting to look like the day was going to be a bust; they'd found a small camp, but unfortunately, the family inside the tent had already turned and after they'd disposed of the dead, they were left with three cans of diced tomatoes and a box of colored pencils that Aaron thought the kids might like to show for their troubles. They were about to call it quit and began the ride back toward Alexandria when he thought it would be worth it to, at least, make it up the small hill ahead of them and check what would be waiting for them on the other side their next time out. As they reached the top, they looked at each other, Aaron was smiling and he found himself doing the same.

The place had obviously been a home originally, until whoever had lived there realized that there was money to be made in being the only building in at least fifteen miles and they'd converted the front rooms to a general store as well as added a gas pump out in front. It was so remote that it looked nearly untouched and if that was the case, they might have just found a gold mine.

And a gold mine it was. It looked like no one had even been inside the building in months, undisturbed dust covering the counter and shelves as well as the floor. As they went through the place, they could hear the sound of walkers mixing with the creaking of the old wooden floor, there was definitely a few them somewhere around but the snarling was faint, meaning they were probably on the second floor or in the basement and therefore, no worries for them right now. They began going through everything, deciding what to take back today and what would have to wait until they could return with a bigger team and a bigger vehicle. He had just grabbed a pack of cigarettes from behind the counter, and was placing one between his lips when a loud crash and a scream broke the silence.

"Aaron?" He shouted, hurrying toward where the man had been standing a moment before, certain that the floor had to have given out under his companion.

"I'm okay. It wasn't me," Aaron assured him, his curly head popping up over one of the display units behind which he'd been crouching to take a closer look at the items on the shelf.

Now that he knew Aaron was alright, Daryl headed for the door and down the front steps. They had spotted a cellar on the other side of the building before going in and it seemed like the most likely place for the scream to have from. Raising his crossbow as he rounded the corner, he nearly dropped the weapon to ground in surprise at sight before him; just a few yards away, planted in the ground by the open cellar doors was an eerily familiar looking walking stick and resting at the top, seemingly staring right at him, was a scratched up gas mask he knew far too well. Before he knew it, he was slinging his crossbow onto his back and taking off running toward the open doors, a name he never expected to utter again shouting out of him.

"Michelle!"

He heard Aaron call out to him as he dropped to his knees next to the cellar, but all he was listening for was the voice he'd been desperately wanting to hear again. Peering in the darkness, he could make out a shape about halfway down the stairs but something wasn't quite right about it. Saying her name again, he tried to hold on to his logical side which was telling him how impossible this was, that there was no way this could be her, that he shouldn't get his hopes up and that--

"D-Daryl? Is that you?" That voice, he never thought he'd hear that voice again, but there it was. Before he could respond or ask if she was alright, she was speaking again straining as she went which told him right away that she was in pain, that along with her words kicked his brain back into gear. "The steps collapsed and now I'm stuck, my machete fell and I'm pretty sure there's at least two dead ones in here."

She was stuck between the half-rotted steps, that explained why the shape of her hadn't seemed quite right, like she'd been sitting halfway down the stairs. He could hear the walkers snarling and shuffling as they moved toward her, her dangling legs and their voices surely attracting them. He assured her that he would get her out of there and heard her sigh in relief. Standing up, he took his crossbow off, there was no point to taking it down there with him, he wouldn't be able to safely shoot it in the dark; he'd have to use his knife instead.

"If it's rotted through--" Aaron began saying as he stepped a little closer, having overheard the conversation.

"I'm getting her out," he interrupted, the words coming out close to a growl. And before the Alexandrian could say anything more, Daryl was crouching again and heading down into the cellar. He heard Aaron say he'd check the car to see if they had anything that could help but he wasn't listening much anymore. He rested his weight on the first two steps and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to get a clearer picture of scene before him. Michelle was just three steps below, encased to her waist in the wood with her back to him. He'd have to get her out of there somehow, and without having the whole thing collapse under them... and before the walkers managed to get a bit out of her. He wouldn't lose her the same way they'd lost Beth; with some stupid, horrible death just after some miracle had brought them back together.

He asked her if she could turn around, and after some effort, a worrisome creaking of the wood and a ton of pained expletives, she was facing him. Even in the dim light, he could make out her features and only then did he realize just how much he'd missed her as a ball of emotion got lodged in his throat. He felt just like he had after seeing Carol again after Terminus, after having been convinced for so long that he'd lost his friend forever.

"Gimme yours hands," he told her, after clearing his throat.

Instantly, she was stretching her arms toward him and him toward her. Grabbing her hands, he began to pull, but other than a strangled cry, nothing came of it. He moved down one more step, getting a better hold on her forearms, their faces closed enough together that he could see himself reflected in her eyes. She was really there. This wasn't one of his dreams. But suddenly, it seemed to take a turn toward one of his nightmares as she screamed in fear and he heard the sound of what he assumed most have been her foot colliding with one of the walkers below. He gave a pull and before he knew it, her body was moving upward, toward him and for a second there, he thought they were actually out of the woods.

That was when the stairs decided to give up under their combined weight.

Within seconds, he'd gone from nearly having Michelle out of the precarious position she'd been quite literally stuck in to crash-landing halfway on top of her against the concrete floor of the cellar. He quickly pulled himself off, only catching a glimpse of her face and the contortion of pain it was in, her mouth opened to scream but nothing coming out. He'd most likely knocked the wind right out of her. He was just about to help her up, when a fetid hand grabbed onto his shoulder making him spin around, his knife finding its way right into the walker's temple. That was one down, one more to go.

He heard his name, called from above, by Aaron, the shape of him framed by the entrance to the cellar. It seemed he'd found rope in the general store upstairs which would likely be their only way to get out of this place. But first, he had to make sure Michelle could be moved, that she hadn't hit her head or anything of the sort. He was just about to do that, when it fell down one spot on the priority list, the second walker appearing just above her shoulder, pulling itself on the ground with one arm. She must have landed on her machete or near it, because before he could even move toward it, she was chopping its head in two.

Even without words, her eyes along with a short-lasting, little half-smile reminded him that she'd never needed his protection; still, he do all he could to keep her safe. That smile quickly turned sour as she tried to move her aching body. He urged her not to move, and yelled over his shoulder at Aaron to anchor the rope to something and lower it. Of course, she didn't listen to him, pushing herself into a sitting position with great pain before looking up at him, that same steely determination he remembered in her dark eyes.

"Help me up," she demanded more asked, extending a hand toward him. He didn't argue, knowing how stubborn she could be.

He helped her up and it quickly became clear that something was wrong with her left leg. Something the Alexandria doctor could hopefully fix; he'd wanted to back to that place faster. Before long though, she'd made it up the rope, with him right behind her.

He dropped into the grass, seeing her clearly for the first time. His eyes scanned her face, taking in all the little details he had begun to forget like the three beauty marks on her right cheek that looked like Orion's belt to the new scar that was now cutting the left side of her jaw in two; he would ask her about it later. Her eyes were doing the same, neither of them believing that the other was truly there. She raised a shaking hand to his cheek and sighed in relief when it actually made contact, filling him with warmth. His arms closed around her, pulling closer to him as he buried his face in her hair. He knew he should be checking the state of her injuries, but right now, he still needed to prove to himself that she was truly there. He also knew Aaron was nearby and that he should be introducing them, instead of just holding on to his friend for dear life but again, he just couldn't help himself. The thoughts he'd had earlier about public displays of affection were replaying in his mind and they seemed quite hypocritical now. Maybe those things weren't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a long moment for Michelle to accept the fact that somehow Daryl was actually there. Was she seeing things, hallucinating him because she was in a really bad situation and she deeply wanted her friend there? If so, her brain was getting all the details right, because he looked real, smelled real and more than anything he felt real as he held on to her, his arms around her making her ribs hurt even more but not enough to make her want to let go. One finger trailed along one of the feathers on the back of his leather vest and for some reason, this convinced her that he was real. Not the result of some concussion or a mean trick of her imagination.

Their embrace probably lasted only a few seconds even though it felt longer than that before her ribs couldn't take it anymore and a whimper escaped her lips. Daryl pulled back at the sudden sound, staring down at the dirt for a second as if he was embarrassed by what he'd just done. She watched him turn his head toward a man she didn't know who was standing nearby, reeling back the rope that had gotten them out of the cellar about to say something him when his eyes glanced down at his hand and the sticky red blood now covering his fingers.

"Are you bit?" Those squinty blue eyes were back on her in an instant, as if scanning her for injuries. In his voice, she heard concern but also a sad resignation, almost like he expected her to be taken away now that he'd just found her again, like Beth had.

She shook her head, trying to get the images of the sweet blonde's death out of her mind, not quite realizing that she was answering his question at the same time. "I don't think so, no," she added, carefully reaching for the hem of her shirt and lifting it with a pained hiss to see where the blood was coming from. Her whole torso looked like a topographical map, covered in different colors, blues and purples and streaks of red where the splintered wood had cut into her skin.

"We should get her to Pete," the man standing to the side said as he approached and Daryl nodded. She didn't know who Pete was either and she was beginning to worry that her friend might have, once again, lost his family. She would definitely ask him about that later.

Daryl and the stranger helped her up and in a matter of seconds, her friend was actually picking her up off the ground as one of her knees simply couldn't hold her weight. That wasn't good. An injury like that, one that left you unable to walk on your own, out here, that was as good as a death sentence. Daryl walked as quickly as he could without rustling her too much, every little bump making her bite down on her lips to stop pathetic little yelps of pain from making it past her lips, as he went, he instructed the other man to grab her walking stick and gas mask. She wanted to thank him for that, but what came out sounded much more like the noise a kicked puppy would have made.

Before long, she was laid out on the backseat of an old sedan, as Daryl climbed in the passenger seat, the other man turned the key in ignition and the car came to life, going faster than would have been legal on such a road back in the days. Her friend had questions, she could tell just from the way he was looking at her - heck, she could almost hear the gears spinning inside his head - and she'd be lying if she pretended not to have at least a million for him as well. The first of which begin where were they taking her, and the second, what was he even doing in Virginia of all places.

"I'm Aaron, by the way," the driver said, kind eyes glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

"Shelley, hi," she quickly replied, unconsciously reverting back to the nickname Carl had chosen for her what felt like a lifetime ago. She felt a little sheepish that they'd all but ignored the curly-haired man all that time, but on the other hand, it wasn't everyday that you found someone you knew and cared about out here. "Thanks for the assi--" Her sentence was cut in half as the car hit a large bump in the road, rattling her painful ribcage, making her wince. As soon as the pain subsided a bit, she started over. "...thanks for the assist back there."

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying her best to focus only on breathing and not on the agony that every single movement of the car sent through her. A feat that would have been easier if each breath didn't seem to rattle her entire ribcage, leaving her to pant short, shallow breaths like a woman about to give birth. Reaching up, she pushed her sweaty hair away from her forehead and only seconds after she did, she heard Daryl's low, growly voice over the sound of her winded breathing.

"What happened there?" He asked, pointing at the still tender spot just above her right temple. With everything else that had happened today, she'd completely forgotten about the days-old bruise which had had her so worried over the last few days.

"Someone stole the car I'd been traveling in," she answered, fingers hovering just above the green and yellow skin. "Bunch of assholes in leather jackets. They pulled me out of the backseat in the middle of the night and threw me out. I tried to fight them but, there was five of them and one of me... One of them pistol-whipped me for my trouble. Woke up hours later with two walkers getting ready to turn me into breakfast."

She couldn't meet Daryl's eyes for a long moment after finishing her explanation. She was quite honestly ashamed of what had happened. About not being able to protect herself against those five men. She'd always argued that she didn't need protection against anything or anyone out here and they'd been able to get the drop on her like it was nothing. Her fate could have been much worst, given the situation, and she knew that but it didn't make her feel any less helpless. On top of all that, worrying about a possible concussion meant she'd forced herself to stay awake since it had happened, the lack of sleep was probably to blame for her being stupid enough to head into that cellar without first checking if the old staircase would support her weight. That and the fact she hadn't eaten in days either.

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet, mainly because the questions she wanted to ask Daryl were most likely best kept in private and it seemed he felt the same about his questions for her. Despite that, his eyes trailed back over to her every few minutes, making sure she was alright. Every time he turned around, she was reminded of how much she'd missed him after she left. How she'd wished she had asked him to come with her that morning after they'd buried Beth. She'd thought of him often, wondering where he was and if he was alright, if the rest of his group was getting on okay, while still trying to convince herself that she'd made the right decision in leaving... whether or not she had succeeded in that task varied wildly from day to day.

Michelle wasn't sure what she had expected to see at the end of the road after Aaron assured her that they were almost there, a camp somewhere in the woods or a group piled up in some small house somewhere maybe, but large walls and a gate with what looked like the epitome of suburbia behind it was definitely not it.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl wasn't certain how long he'd been sitting there for, in that bright white room which smelled too clean. After he'd forced Aaron to drive them right to the makeshift infirmary, even though cars were supposed to be left at the gate, he'd rushed to get Michelle inside to get her some help with her injuries, picking her up in his arms despite her weak protest that she could make it on her own. As he'd crossed the porch, he'd heard people talking behind him, the rumbling of the car had attracted folks out of their homes. Some of the Alexandrians were whispering, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening, while their leader, Deanna, was already trying to get answers out Aaron as to why he'd drove a car this far into the community. Before the door closed behind them, Tara's loud voice resonated with disbelief as she recognized who he was holding, asking whomever was standing next to her if she was seeing things or if it really was Michelle.

Alexandria's doctor, Pete, had him help Michelle onto the examination table before asking him to close the blinds so everyone standing outside wouldn't be peeking in. Under most other circumstances he would have probably been unwilling to take what sounded suspiciously like orders from that man, but right then, he had just wanted to make sure his friend was going to be all right. While he'd closed the blinds, Michelle had been telling the doctor what had happened and where she was hurt.

"She got pistol-whipped a few days back too," he'd added over his shoulder as she left that detail out. "You should check her for a concussion."

He'd reached the last of the long row of windows when she'd hissed in pain behind him, causing him to turn around to see if what was going on. Pete had been trying to get her blood-soaked shirt off above her head, and it had quickly become clear that it wasn't gonna work; seeing him grab a pair of scissors in order to cut her t-shirt off, Daryl had hurriedly turned away in attempt to give her some privacy. As he'd done so, his eyes had landed on the back of a chair by the bed where the button-down shirt he had given her long ago was draped. He hadn't noticed it until now, but something about it seeing again, carefully placed on there, if a tad bloodied and worse for wear, warmed him up inside.

He'd stood there for what felt like awhile, just staring at the wall and listening to what was happening behind him. Listening to the doctor checking over her ribcage and asking her if this or that hurt, listening to him make some comments about her tattoos which made his jaws clench together. He'd wanted to bark at him to just get on with his work and make her better but he kept silent, just flexing his fingers instead, before shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

"Daryl, you can turn around." Her voice had cut through his thoughts, making him look away from the wall and over his shoulder, as if assuring himself that it was okay for him to look. She was almost done buttoning down his shirt, with painful little gasps every so often when she moved too fast, slowly covering the bandages wrapped around her ribcage.

As the doctor moved on to check her knee, he'd taken the seat he was still occupying now. Neither of them spoke much, even though he had questions a-plenty going through his head, he hadn't wanted to ask them in front of a third party. Plus, he hoped there would be time later, that she'd stick around long enough for him to get his answers... In all honesty, he hoped she would decide to stay, period.

After finishing his exam, Pete had told her that didn't show signs of a concussion, that her ribs appeared to be bruised and not broken, that her knee was, luckily, only sprained, that with a few days of bed rest and up to a month of crutches she'd be right as rain. He'd gone on to tell her that she was dehydrated, malnourished and desperately needed to get some sleep.

_No shit_ , he'd thought. Those were things even he could have easily come up with just by looking at her; from the dark circles under her eyes to the way her cheekbones showed more than they normally should and just how dry her lips appeared to be. _Don't need a fancy degree to figure that out..._

He'd help Michelle off the examination table and even though he was ready to take her back to the house Carol and him shared, Pete insisted on keeping her under observation for a day or two. Once she'd settled into the plush bed, the doctor had returned with some pretty strong painkillers and very quickly, she'd drifted off to dreamland.

And hours later, she was still sleeping and he was still sitting there, in that chair, waiting for her to wake up. He knew he could have left and simply have someone come and find him when she'd come to, but if he was the one waking up in some strange place, with some heavy medication going through his veins, he'd want a friendly face there. So, he stayed put.

Her eyes fluttered a few times but she remained asleep. His eyes wondered around the room, and then back over to her short frame under the blankets, somehow she looked much smaller than usual. He watched as Pete came and went, checking this and that. As the sun began to set, his eyelids were slowly growing heavier, his yawns breaking the silence of the infirmary and he forced himself to his feet, pacing and stretching to wake himself up.

"Hey."

He hadn't even heard the door open, but there stood Carol with a plate of food in her hands, watching him with those concerned blue eyes of hers. At the sight of the plate, his stomach rumbled, making him realize that he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. It was strange to think that he'd been used to hunger for so long and that just a few weeks here and he was getting hungry by just skipping one meal; Carl and Carol were right, this place would make them weak if they let it.

"I figured I'd bring you some food or you wouldn't eat," she added in a whisper as she stepped into the infirmary. She took seat at the old kitchen island that had been turned into one more storage surface for medical supplies and motioned to the stool next to her. With a glance over to the sleeping form in the bed, he went to join her, starting on the food as soon as he sat down.

"Aaron told us what happened," she told him as he ate and he was thankful for it, because now that he'd started eating, he didn't want to stop to tell the story. She was looking over at Michelle, with an expression on her face that he couldn't seem to read. "...and it seems she's gonna be just fine." He gave her a side glance, silently asking her how she knew that. "Jessie, Pete's wife, she came by earlier to tell Rick and the rest of us what was going," she added, in explanation before mentioning how some of the others had wanted to come and check on her, but Rick and her had thought it was best to keep the visitors at a minimum at least for that day. Another thing he was quite thankful for.

"How are you doing?" She asked gently, as he finished scraping the bottom of the plate. Those big blue eyes were scanning him again, looking deep inside him for the truth. Everyone in the group knew how hard he'd taken the loss of both Beth and Michelle within twenty-four hours of each other. No one had really said anything about it, and he was definitely glad for that. He'd needed his own time to process everything and come out on the other side. But the one person who had forced him to face his demons was sitting next to him, Carol who always seemed to know how he was feeling and what he needed to hear. And now, she was asking a question that could sound so banal to anyone else, but it was anything but.

"I dunno," he admitted in a mumble after a quick glance at the woman sleeping just a few feet away. His hand brushed against his lips, rubbing the bottom part of his face as he always seemed to do when he was nervous or embarrassed of something. "I'm glad she's back," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... Truth is, I never thought I'd see her again... I'd accepted that."

Carol nodded, placing a hand of his forearm for a moment before sliding off the stool and picking the plate. She headed for the door as he stood to head back to his chair by the bed, only to turn around as she spoke again. "It's hard to believe that somehow the two of you just managed to cross paths like that... I mean, she disappeared a month ago, 500 miles away and now she's back... When's the last time we got kind of luck?"

As she closed the door behind her, he sat back in his seat, watching the dark-haired woman in the bed who he'd missed so much. Still, he couldn't deny that Carol could be right, maybe this wasn't pure luck that had brought Michelle back to them and if that was the case, he'd have to be ready for whatever came next.


	5. Chapter 5

Why was everything so blurry? Michelle had finally managed to open her eyes, despite the fact that her eyelids seemed to weight half a ton each. Something didn't seem right though, she wasn't sure where she was or how she'd gotten here. It was as if someone had filled her head with cotton. With great effort, she lifted one hand off the soft blanket - How had she gotten into that bed again? - and tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes, at last realizing why everything around her looked like some impressionist painting.

Carefully, she patted over the top of the little bedside table, locating what she'd been searching for in a matter of moment. Glasses firmly back on her face, she could see around the room more clearly despite the darkness. It was night outside, that much she could tell and she laid in a bed in some sort of small, made up hospital room. Looking down at herself, she noticed she was only wearing Daryl's shirt, and not usual t-shirt, undoing the buttons and seeing the states of her ribcage brought back memories of the events that had lead her here. The rotted out staircase. The pain of getting stuck as the wood bit into her skin. That voice she thought her imagination was once again torturing her with and then suddenly, the whole person attached to the voice appearing out of nowhere.

Her eyes landed on him, sitting near the end of the bed, his chin resting against his chest as he snored softly. A smile began to pull at the corner of her lips and soon after, a small half-chuckle, half-sob forced its way out of her. One hand went to her mouth to try and silence it, not wanting to wake up Daryl, while the other went to her ribs, the pain returning as the medication she'd been given had started wearing off. She rested back against the pillow, head tilted to the side as she watched her sleeping companion for a moment. It still required some effort to convince herself that he was actually right there.

After that morning by the church, after they'd buried Beth, she'd been absolutely certain that it was the last time she'd ever lay eyes on the man she considered her friend. Regardless if leaving had been a mistake or not, regardless of the days where she regretted that decision and the ones where she thought it was for the best, one thing had been clear in her mind; she would never see him or the rest of his group ever again. And yet, here they both were.

If her dad was still alive, he would have had some saying for this, most likely something cliche like _the universe works in mysterious ways_ to which she would have possibly rolled her eyes. But right now, even if she still wasn't sure if she believed in the mysterious ways of the universe, she was thankful to whatever it might have been that had brought them back together.

"You're awake."

His voice, even hoarser now from sleep, made her jump, a hiss of pain rushing past her lips. Daryl was on his feet in a second, grabbing the bottle of painkillers from the bedside table and handing her two. "Pete said to give you those when you woke up," he commented as he headed into the repurposed kitchen to get her a glass of water. He seemed to anticipate her next question as he passed her the perspiring glass. "Yeah, they've still got running water."

After swallowing the two large pills, with a good helping of the cleanest water she'd drank in years, Michelle took in the room some more, how clean and _normal_ it seemed. Despite the fact that it had been turned from a typical kitchen/living room combo to a improvised hospital room, the whole place seemed to have missed the memo that the apocalypse had happened and the old world around it was gone.

"What is this place?"

Pulling his chair a little closer to the bed, Daryl sat down again and for the first time since he'd helped her out of that cellar, Michelle got a real good look at his face. He looked tired as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and there was something else there, something she couldn't quite place, loneliness maybe? That made her worry about what might have lead him to this place and these people. She hoped he hadn't lost his group, his family while she was gone.

"Alexandria. People here call it a safe zone," he answered, with a sigh. It was clear that he didn't believe this to be the case and she had a lot of trouble not actually scoffing at the idea. The idea of anything being safe nowadays was laughable at best, regardless of how untouched the building around them seemed to be. "Some planned community for rich pricks who wanted to be self-sufficient..."

"How do they keep the dead ones out?"

"Big walls all round."

She nodded her head, it definitely made sense for it to be something like that. But from what she'd witnessed and what she knew had happened to Daryl and Beth's prison camp, walls could only keep you safe for as long as they were up. One of them could tumble down and hell would come barging it. That wasn't really safety, it was more like waiting for the inevitable to happen. She was about to ask him how he'd gotten here, but he beat her to that one. All those questions she'd seen in his eyes in the car now needed to be answered.

"...you said you had a car. You'd have passed by here much earlier with one. How come you only got here now?" He added, his eyes scanning her face, as if he searching for something and in that moment, she realized some of the damages she'd done by leaving; he didn't trust her anymore. It hadn't been obvious earlier, because emotions mixed with adrenaline could cloud judgment but now, he had a clear head and that meant mistrust.

Taking a sip of water, she prepared herself to tell him the truth... or most of it anyway. "After that morning," she started, choosing not to go into details that would likely be as painful for him as they were for her. "I began walking. I had no idea where I was headed, really. Just letting my feet take control. Anyway, I was too sleep deprived, too broken by guilt and grieve to really think clearly. Somehow, I ended up at that farmhouse... the one where we spent the night with Joe and his gang." _The one we'd considered going back to together, before you found Rick and the others again..._ "I locked myself into the master bedroom and I just... I collapsed. I cried and I cried for hours, maybe days. Time was hard to keep track of in the state I was in. And then, when I ran out of tears, I finally fell asleep. It had been days since I'd slept more than an hour or two... Since, well... since I kil-- since the night we meet up with Rick, Michonne and Carl..."

She still had trouble with that, with the part where she'd doubled her body count after meeting him. What had happened to Ellie, while she still felt guilty about it, she could put in context and deep down, she knew she was only partly responsible for her death as for her dad, she'd taken his life because walkers were tearing him apart and she didn't want him to suffer anymore. And they both came back to haunt her for what she'd done, but the two people she'd killed after that, Billy and that one from the Terminus group whose name she didn't even know, those haunted her in a different way. She'd made the decision to kill and that was not something she could get over easily.

"I don't know how long I slept," she continued after he'd cleared his throat, bringing her back to the here and now and away from the scenes of her crimes. "Somewhere between a day to three would be my best guest. That's when I realized what I had done. That I had left and that I... that I'd never see you or anyone of the group again. I was alone again and it was my own damn fault. I knew there was no way you all would have still been at the church, but still, I went back... Took me days to find it, but I went back and, of course, you were all gone."

She passed a slightly shaky hand through her short hair as she remembered how distraught she'd been when she'd reached Gabriel's church, seeing the dried blood on the walls again and the many graves they'd added to the side of it. For a moment, she'd considered just staying there, giving up on this whole survival nonsense and calling it in finally, something Daryl didn't need to know. But the voices that had been plaguing her before she'd joined up with Daryl and Beth had returned, with some additions to their casts and they had other plans.

"After that, I decided I would do what I'd told you I would, going back to New York and then up to Canada, to Ellie's grave... It took a while to find a car that I could locate the keys to."

"You don't know how to hotwire one?"

She shook her head, looking down at the comforter, feeling admittedly a little sheepish about that fact. It a small laugh on his part, along with an offer to teach her, that got her to look back up. That look of doubt and mistrust in his eyes was still there, and she knew it would take some time for him to begging trusting her again the way he had, but she could tell that he wanted to trust her again and that meant a whole lot.

"Once I got a car, I started north, slowly making my way up and then, as I said before, three nights ago, these leather clad assholes stole the car and left me behind..." Her fingers instinctively went up to the bruise on her forehead, barely feeling any pain as the medication worked its way into her system. Now it was her turn to ask as question. "How about you? How did you end up here... behind walls? And in Virginia, of all place?"

And with that, he began filling her in on all that she'd missed. How they'd decided to head to Virginia because of Beth's promise to get Noah home and the long, arduous journey they'd faced getting there. He told her about the desolation Rick and the others had found in Richmond and that they'd lost Tyreese that day. Her heart broke as he shared that, in part for the man himself who had seemed incredibly nice even if she'd barely known him and, of course, no one deserved such a death, but mainly, it broke for Sasha, who had already lost Bob such a short before. He continued on, talking about the hunger and the thirst as they'd decided to head to D.C. regardless of Eugene's lie about a cure. Finally, he'd gotten to the point of explaining how they'd arrived here, how they'd meet Aaron and his offer for them to join this community.

It was flabbergasting how they'd endured so much in such a short period of time and still, somehow, they'd come out on top. To some, finding this place must have seemed like a dream come true, a light at the end of the tunnel, but clearly, Daryl wasn't of that opinion. She wouldn't have expected to be either, to him the walls probably felt more like a cage than some form of protection.

"You said something about building your own bike," she said after he'd gone quiet and quite sullen. That mention of the motorcycle frame Aaron had offered him had been the only part of his story, after their arrival in Alexandria, where he'd seemed excited and just mentioned it now, made him raise his head again, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his lips as he nodded. "Do you think I might be able to convince you to take me on ride someday? Once I'm better, of course."

"Does that mean you're staying?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm done being alone."


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the sun began to rise above the walls of Alexandria, the infirmary had began filling up with a nearly constant flow of people. It had begun with Pete, the doctor, coming to check on his patient, which would have made Michelle feel a lot more comfortable if she hadn't been able to smell alcohol on him from a few feet away. And from the look on Daryl's face, he'd been able to smell it too. Still, the visit had been short, mainly just checking her vital signs and her level of pain before repeating instruction he'd given the day before about eating, rest and medication.

After that first slightly unpleasant visit though, there had been another knock at the door and before Daryl could even open it, Rosita and Tara were making their way into the room, Eugene trailing rather awkwardly behind them. It was nice to see their faces again, she had enjoyed their company a lot after they'd all made it out of Terminus and to hear it, they seemed to be glad to see her again as well. It was quite overwhelming to hear actually.

Even before the apocalypse, Michelle had never thought she could have any kind of effect in anyone's life, and much less now. She'd felt like a shell of herself since her father had died, someone with walls too high and thick for anyone to break through them, but two people had. One who now laid buried by an abandoned church, hundreds of miles away and the other, standing guard in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest and ready to show everyone out if she seemed to get remotely tired. But, the two women currently standing by her bed and the mulleted man by the kitchen island all seemed to want to, at the very least, peek in behind her walls as well. She couldn't understand why, but as she'd told Daryl just hours earlier, she was done being alone and, maybe, letting people was the way to do it.

The small waves of people continued to wash in and out of the room, with Pete returning later, grumpier and obviously suffering a serious hangover, to Aaron coming in with some food for the two of them. Mid-afternoon, she found herself catching up with Carl and Michonne while Daryl was having some hush-hush conversation with Rick, who she'd barely recognized without his scruffy beard, in a corner of the room. Sneaking a glance over to her friend, there was obviously something on his mind, his body language was closed off in a way that she hadn't seen from him when talking to Rick before. She'd only seen him like this once actually, during their first few days together, when he was still being overprotective of Beth as if she was going to hurt her at the first she had.

As the three of them left, Daryl sighed heavily. He ran his hand over his mouth, as he sat down, something was bothering him that much was obvious and she didn't know how long he planned on keeping her in the dark about what it might be. She gave him a long minute and it seemed to be enough, since he was finally looking up at her and starting to talk.

"There's someone you're gonna have to meet," he said vaguely. "I told Rick it could wait a few days. Until you were a bit better but Deanna doesn't want to wait..."

"Who's Deanna?"

"She runs this place," Daryl explained. "She wants to interview you. To see if you... if she's gonna _allow_ you to stay!" He pushed himself out of the chair with such force that it tipped over and hit the floor, as she jumped in surprise, she couldn't help but be thankful for the strong painkillers she was under or her entire body would be screaming in pain from the sudden jerk right about now. He was pacing the room, pushing his hair out of his face, looking like he'd happily hit something if it happened in his path. "You're one of us!" He added, still pacing. He'd obviously meant his words to reassure her, but somehow, she couldn't help but think they were an attempt to reassure himself of what he was saying. "Don't worry. I-- _We_ ain't gonna let her throw you out here. No matter what she thinks."

So she was what he was being overprotective of earlier. In a way, it was touching, especially since she wasn't sure she deserved such a thing. Not after deserting the way she had, regardless of sleep deprivation and grief. Heck, she wasn't actually sure he even thought that she did, after all, she'd seen the doubt in his blue eyes, but he was still Daryl and protecting those he cared about was just something he did. It was incredibly nice to know that she was still one of them, though.

She was about to quip that she would try her best to be likeable, hopefully reassuring him in some way, or at least, breaking some of the tension in the room, but before she could open her mouth, there was a knock at the door. This time though, the person on the other side waited until Daryl opened before coming in. As the short, smiling woman carrying what appeared to be a video camera entered, Daryl couldn't help but glare.

"Hello, I'm Deanna Monroe," the lady said, settling down in Daryl's chair by the side of the bed. She smiled up at her, before starting to set up her video camera. "Normally, I do these little interviews in my home, but since Pete said you weren't in a state to come to me, I thought I'd just come to you. Would--"

"This could have waited a few days," Daryl's voice interrupted as he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest once again, with eyes shooting daggers at the newcomer.

"I wish it was the case, Mr. Dixon, truly. But, there are rules in place here and without them, we have no chance of rebuilding society." Deanna turned toward him slowly, her voice still in that soft, almost mollycoddling tone, that reminded Michelle a lot of one of her old school teachers when she'd talk to a particularly pesky child. It was strange to hear someone call him by his last name... She didn't think she'd even known it until now.

_Daryl Dixon._ She had to stop herself from scoffing or shaking her head in amusement. _It figured._

"Now, would you mind leaving us, please?" The older woman asked as she turned back to face her.

Daryl's squinty blue eyes found her in a second, silently asking if she wanted him to stay. The woman in front of her didn't seem like anything she needed to worry about honestly, even in her weakened state, and Michelle couldn't help but wonder if he was looking for her to give him a reason to stick around. He'd already done enough, in her opinion, he deserved to get out of the small room; stretch his legs, work on that bike he'd mentioned or whatever it was he did here, rather than being stuck inside with her. She wished she could be out there herself actually.

"I'll be fine," she assured him with a smile and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded and opened the door, only turning back to say that he'd be outside if she needed him which made her smile a little wider.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the woman was standing up and resting her camera on the kitchen island facing toward the bed. To Michelle's confused frown, she responded by asking if it was okay for her to film this.

"What is _this_ actually?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just a some questions to get to know you," Deanna answered, pressing one button before heading back to her seat. "To see how you'll fit in our community. Why don't we start with your name, huh? Aaron said it's Shelley, but I wasn't sure if it was a friends-only nickname or--"

"Michelle. Michelle Mason," she responded. The nickname was still something foreign, something she understood the utility of but that she had needed to adjust to. The one nickname she'd had before all this, had been Mimi and still that had been reserved to Ellie and her dad. "Shelley's a nickname that came from necessity more than anything else. Having a Michonne and a Michelle in the same group could have made things a little more complicated than they needed to be."

"I see," the older woman nodded, in a way that reminder her of a psychiatrist. "How long were you with Rick's group before you got separated from them?"

Separated from them, that was a nice way to put it. She didn't know who it was who'd hidden the fact that she'd left like a thief in the night but she was grateful for it. What had happened that morning had been a private matter, her own moment of weakness, and not something she would have liked to try and explain to someone she'd just met. How could she have explained that she'd chosen to abandon the last person she really felt close to in the world for fear of having to watch him die because the day before she'd been unable to help save the woman who'd become a second sister to her? How could she have even found the words to explain how much pain she'd been in over that terrible loss, or how she'd been barely function because she'd refused to sleep for the better part of four nights? And, how, after all was said and done, the two people who had saved her life and who she'd let down by running away had then chosen to join the voices in her head... There would have simply been no way to explain all those things and still get to stay here afterward.

"I was with the whole group for a matter of days," she said, gauging the surprise in the other's eyes. Before Deanna could ask her follow-up question, she was already answering it. "I was with Daryl for over a month before we met up with the others."

There was a little knowing smile on the Alexandrian leader's lips that she didn't like along with a twinkle in her eyes that seemed to assume certain things that weren't actually there. "I could have guessed that," Deanna replied with a hint of teasing in her voice which made Michelle's hand flex under the blanket. This was the end of the freaking world, the dead outnumbered the living and still people just assumed a man and a woman couldn't be friends... What absolute bull...

"What about before you met with him, how did you survive then? Another group?"

Michelle shook her head, explaining that she'd been alone for a long time before she'd met with Daryl, choosing to leave out Beth because she didn't know how much Maggie had told this woman and, also, because it hurt less that way. She talked in vague detail about losing her father to the dead ones and surviving with him before that. Deanna asked who she'd been before the outbreak, as if that was relevant of anything. Still she'd pressed on despite Michelle's resistance. And so she told her, about the boring data entry team of which she'd been the supervisor and of the rest of her time spent shelving books at a library. She talked about her apartment and the roommate she'd wished she could have thrown out on the street but couldn't have afforded her rent otherwise. She mentioned things and people she hadn't thought about in years, talking about them as if they'd been someone else's souvenirs. Like she was trying to recall that plot of a very boring book she might have read a long time ago that she wasn't sure she was remembering right anymore.

"There wasn't much to me back then," she concluded. "Just another face in the crowd really..."

"Well, you've survived this long," Deanna replied, leaning in a little in a motherly sort of way. "And your own for a large part so, I'd say there is quite a lot to you actually. And I think you'll be a good addition to Alexandria." She stood and went over the camera which Michelle had forgotten about, turning it off and heading toward the door. She turned back toward her, with her hand on the handle. "This was a formality really. I wanted to get to know you, true, but I think I might have had a coup on my hands if I'd tried to send back out there. So please, don't make me regret this."


	7. Chapter 7

Despite Daryl's original opposition of Deanna interviewing Michelle so early after her arrival, the fact that she gave the okay for her to remain in Alexandria once she was better did relieve some anxiety he hadn't even realized he had. The idea of having her back only to lose her again was just far too similar to what they'd gone through with Beth and, quite honestly, he needed someone here to make Alexandria more bearable. Most of the group was adjusting, and some genuinely seemed to like it here, and even though Aaron asking him to be the Safe Zone's second recruiter was making things a bit easier, he still felt isolated from everybody. The only other person who seemed in the same situation was Sasha and, unfortunately, he didn't know quite how to reach out to her. Michelle's unlikely return was giving him his ally and friend back and he wanted to all he could to ensure she stayed.

She still had one more day of observation left when she had inquired about her walking stick and gasmask, wanting them back to her side. She didn't need to say that she felt uncomfortable without those around, the slightly ashamed expression on her face and the tone of her voice that she desperately tried to keep casual made that all too clear. Because of that, he'd been more than happy to go and fetch for her, and when Pete stopped him from bringing them inside, arguing about potentially contaminating the infirmary or something that nature, he'd found another way to get her more at ease. He'd gone outside, by the window facing her bed and planted the sharpened end of the walking stick into the ground, before placing the gasmask at the top of it. Through the glass, he'd seen her laugh, something he'd very rarely seen her do before and he was glad to have been able to do that for her. As he headed back inside, he gave a glance at the improvised sculpture; from the back it most likely looked like some emaciated scarecrow but from this angle, it was exactly the image he'd seen running out of the general store, the very image that told him it was her waiting in the cellar. A strange vision of hope.

"I can do this, Daryl," Michelle assured him, as she reached the steps in front of the house he shared with Carol. Switching one crutch over to her left side and gripping the handrail, she began making her way up far quicker than he was expecting. Still he couldn't help but standing near in case she toppled over. He was being overprotective, and he knew it, just like he'd done with Beth when she'd gotten hurt, except Beth had allowed it and Michelle was clearly not interested in being treated any differently. "I was on crutches for months after the accident... and my bedroom was on the second floor, so I got a lot of practice climbing stairs," she explained, a little breathless as she reached the top of the steps.

It'd been an hour since Pete had deemed her ready to leave the infirmary, in part, it seemed, because he was getting tired of doing his job, smelling more and more like alcohol with every passing check up. She was supposed to be be on bed rest for a few more days to help her bruised ribs, but still she'd insisted on a tour of Alexandria first. He suspected that she wanted to make sure the place was as safe as they'd been saying before letting her guard down. But after making their way around, stopping only to talk to Glenn and Maggie and again later when they saw Abraham on gate duty - the Alexandrians staying clear them - he had guided back to the house where she'd be staying with Carol and him.

After checking out the first floor, and both of them expressing their reserves about this place, they made their way to the second floor, to the bedroom where she'd be staying, at least until her recovery was further along. He hoped she'd stay with them beyond that, but as the others had all wanted to claim their houses, maybe she'd want to do the same. The room was supposedly his, but he hadn't slept there one night since they'd arrived, choosing the couch downstairs instead, only keeping his few meager belongings - two extra shirts and some various knick-knacks - up there. As they reached the top of the stairs though, it was clear that all the moving around had taken it out of her. She wouldn't say anything, of course, but the way she was panting, and the tensing of her jaw as every breath hurt her ribs, he would have had to be an idiot not to notice.

"You should get back in bed," he told her, as she walked into the room, her dark, dirty clothes a stark contrast with the pristine and untouched decor. He placed her gasmask on the dresser and rested her walking stick against the wall, the walkers blood and mud at the tip leaving a satisfying stain against the gray wallpaper as it rolled before coming to a stop. Turning around, he noticed that she looked just as out of place in the room as he did and, somehow, he found that comforting.

"What's wrong?" He asked as she stood by the large bed, looking at it hesitantly. She looked at him over her shoulder, commenting on how she would dirty the crisp linen if she climbed in and even though she seemed to be laughing it off, underneath it appeared to truly be bothering her. Then he remembered, this was the woman who still washed her clothes, even if she wrapped herself in a blanket covered with viscera, in order to feel more human, of course, this would bother her. "There's a bathroom. Second door, there," he added, nodding his head toward it.

Michelle made her way over and opened the door, eyes growing wide behind her glasses as they landed on the large shower. "I never thought I'd ever get to take a shower again," she said as he leaned against the door frame. She sat down on the top of the toilet, attempting to reach down and undo the laces boots, something her bruised body was not ready for. She sighed, loudly. "This is gonna more complicated than expected..."

He found himself kneeling in front of her, taking one foot onto his lap and starting to work on the knot. They looked at each other for a moment, something strange hanging in the air between them. As he looked away, his eyes landed on the cut on her jaw and after clearing his throat, he asked her about it, using it as an excuse to end the awkward silence.

"I was trying to get away from a group of dead ones. More than I could handle on my own," she said, running a finger along the healed cut. "I turned a corner by this house and looked behind me to see if I'd lost them. I turned my head back and came face to face with a piece siding that was hanging off the wall... Nearly knocked my glasses right off my face."

"No gasmask?"

"I had taken it off to eat," she explained, shaking her head. "I had it in my hand too... That was before I reached the farmhouse and I think in my addled state, I just blanked and forgot to put it back on until afterward..."

He was done with both her boots by the time she finished her story, he knew she'd need help with the rest of what she was wearing and quickly suggested getting Carol to help her with that.

Michelle stood in the center of the bathroom, waiting for either Carol or Daryl to come back up the stairs. She tried desperately to ignore the large mirror above the double vanity, but still her reflection caught her eyes. The cut on her jaw that he'd just mentioned, the frown lines on her forehead, the strands of silver in her dark hair; she looked much older than her thirty-two... or was it thirty-three years old by now? Heck, it could be thirty-four for all she knew. She could recall her reaction a few months prior, when she'd seen herself in the small mirror inside the funeral home, how distraught she'd been. Now, something was different, the person looking back at her didn't feel as foreign as she had then. Quite the opposite actually. Back then, she'd mourned the long ginger hair which had been her trademark and her best feature when she lived in New York, she had missed her contacts as well and her well-groomed eyebrows as opposed to the bushy mess they were now. But as she study the woman staring back her, she found herself smiling despite herself. This was the woman who had survived this world, not the put-together New York City redhead and maybe it was time to accept that this was who she had become.

The knock at the door took her by surprise and she gasped before opening it. Carol stood on the other side, a set of folded clothes in her hands and a smile on her lips, if Michelle had not met her right after Terminus, she could have believed that this woman had been hiding behind those walls since the beginning of the apocalypse. Closing the door behind her, the other woman put down the clothes and turned to her.

"I got these for you, just temporary stuff until I can get your clothes cleaned up," she said, with the same smile still on her lips. Michelle barely got the chance to utter a quick thank you that Carol had already began helping her with the many buttons and zippers of clothes she was wearing, careful not to hurt her as she went. It wasn't until Carol spoke again that Michelle realized this wasn't just about helping her.

"We thought you were gone for good," she began. "I can see how the death of Beth could have been too much to bare... It was a big lost for all of us. Are you staying this time? I really think you should, it was hard losing someone else just like that. I don't think we could really deal with that again. Not after everything else..." By that point in Carol's seemingly innocent speech, it was clear that when she said _we_ , she meant _he_. She was protecting Daryl, gauging Michelle's response to see if she planned on leaving and hurting their mutual friend again and Michelle couldn't help but feel a deep respect for her. If the situation was inverted, she would most likely be doing the same, except not as subtly as Carol was.

"I'm planning on staying, actually," she assured the gray-haired woman, wrapping a towel around herself as Carol headed for the door. With one look over her shoulder, the older woman assured her that it was definitely the best decision for everyone and Michelle sensed quick clearly the slight threat underneath the kind words. As the door closed completely, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in, after Rick, Carol was probably the person in the group she least wanted to cross, after all, who would want to go toe-to-toe with the woman who had single-handedly destroyed Terminus...

With a shiver, she let the last of her clothes fall the floor along with her towel. She rested her crutches against the wall and after another half-second examination of her reflection, she carefully hopped her way into the shower, letting the incredible feeling of the warm water washing away not only the dirt and blood, but all those terrible feelings that life had ended a long time ago. She wasn't dead. She was still very much alive. Changed, yes, but alive. And maybe it was time to stop only surviving and start actually living again.


	8. Chapter 8

It took an entire extra day before Daryl left his spot by Michelle's bedside. She still had a few more to go before she could start moving around, but soon she'd be able to go out in the community. He'd gone over to Aaron's to talk about the area they'd be exploring on their next recruitment outing and also, to work on the bike he was getting anxious to finish off. He was looking forward to riding again and he wanted to make good on his promise and take Michelle for a ride when she was well enough. But, the true reason why he'd needed to get away, to clear his head was because he was having trouble looking at her all cleaned up, in those silly rich-prick clothes that Carol had gotten for her. She didn't look like herself anymore, just like everyone from the group, who all seemed to have reverted to who they probably were before all this, and that just didn't sit well with him.

On one hand, he hoped that she would like Alexandria enough to stay - he couldn't help his doubt that she would truly stick around despite what she said... because he'd thought she was in it for the long haul once before and she'd up and left - but on the other, he wanted her to feel the same way about the Safe Zone as he did. Even though he had assured Rick and Carol that he was trying, and he was, he still needed his friend to find this place as suffocating as he did, to want to go behind those walls and around the woods, like they did in his dreams. Except for the part where he'd mistake her for a walker, of course. Seeing her like that, looking prime and proper on top of that big bed, it was too much for him.

After a good two hours working on the bike, getting his hands dirty with grease and motor oil, and making some significant progress, he'd made his way back to the house. The calm he'd been feeling was short-lived as Deanna was stepping out the door as he climbed the front steps. She said hello and give him a smile, but there was something behind it, something in her eyes that he couldn't quite place as if she knew a big secret. He was frowning as he headed for the second floor, and that frowned only deepened when he walked into the room where Michelle was confined for now. There was a large pile of books sitting on the bedside table that hadn't been there before along which he knew for a fact had not been there before he left.

"Did Deanna bring you those?" He asked, nodding toward the books, as he sat down on the chair he'd been inhabiting since he'd brought her home.

"No, she didn't," she replied before putting down the book currently in her hand after quickly noting her page. "She was here to give me a job as it turns out. She wants me to work with Olivia at the pantry and Pete at the infirmary to keep track of inventory and such. Plus, pretty much anything else that might have to do with any sort of data..." She sighed, lifting her glasses and rubbing her eyes as she went on. "And I thought the end of the world meant I was done with all that..."

He scoffed, shaking his head at the whole thing. For how smart she was, Deanna didn't seem to realize just how badly she was planning to under use Michelle. The woman before him was more than capable to go on runs or come with Aaron and him out to recruit. Let alone the fact that she was smarter than most people he knew and had the practical mind it most likely took to run a place like this but instead of having her join Maggie and her in whatever it was they did all day, she was making her count how many cans of green beans. What a joke.

"Have fun," he told her sarcastically, with a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. She rolled her eyes, a little chuckle escaping her as she obviously considered the whole thing just as ridiculous as he did. Maybe he didn't have to worry quite so much about her liking this place too much.

"It was Eugene," she said and for a second he wasn't sure what it was she was referring to. She seemed to notice the confusion in his eyes as she explained further, pointing at the tower of books. "He brought them by while you were gone. He had offered to bring me a few when he, Rosita and Tara came over to the infirmary. I didn't expect him to show up with almost fifteen of them though. But, there's quite a few good ones in here, so that will make the last of bed rest a little easier."

The smile on her face as she talked about the books was hard to understand for him; he'd never seen the appeal of sitting around with big books when television was an option. Maybe it was because his father and Merle had always said it was a waste of time or because whenever he'd try to read something at school, the other kids mocked his slow, unsure delivery but this had lead him not to be much of a reader. Plus, the fact that certain letters just seemed to have been created to be confusing and headache-inducing meant that he couldn't quite comprehend why anyone would read as a hobby. But, it was obvious that Michelle was quite a fan of it.

"What's the one you've got there?" He asked, pointing at the book she'd just put down.

"Sherlock Holmes. _A Study in Scarlet_." She lifted the book so he could see the cover, the look on her face turning almost nostalgic. This was a side of her he'd rarely seen, the only time she seemed to think back kindly on her life before the outbreak, was when she talked of her father or Ellie. "I must have read this one twenty times at least. It's sort of nice to see that things like this aren't completely gone, just a little harder to find now. Did you ever read it?"

He shook his head, mentioning that he wasn't much of a reader and not going into anymore details then that as she continued talking, telling him how it was the very first appearance of Holmes and Watson and how she'd read it for the first time when she was thirteen. He'd seen that photo of her and her sister as teenagers, older than thirteen but still, he could imagine that girl with the long dark ponytail, sitting some couch with a book in her lap. He offered to leave her to her book, if she wanted, but she ignored this and began asking him about his progress working on his motorcycle instead, reminding him of the ride they were supposed to take when she'd be back on her feet. It turned out her father had had a bike for most of her childhood and she used to love riding with him. And Daryl definitely looked forward to giving her that experience again.

As conversation dwindled, as it often did with the two of them, since neither was quite loquacious, he could see her eyes going back to the book every so often. "Go ahead," he told her, assuring her with those two words that he didn't mind her reading while he sat there, already pulling his crossbow onto his lap to make sure everything on the weapon was in order.

" _Chapter 1_. _Mr. Sherlock Holmes_. _In the year 1878, I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London..._ "

He looked up at her, watching her for a second as she read the first sentence of the book, her eyes meeting his above the pages for a moment before looking back down at the words. Maybe she simply wanted to share this with him, or maybe she'd understood without asking for more information what he'd meant when he had mentioned not being much of a reader, but here she was, reading out loud from the beginning the book she'd already started earlier. She was reading to him and he really appreciated the gesture. Setting down his crossbow, he leaned back in the chair by her bedside, listening intently as she told him the story of another pair of two unlikely friends and the adventures they shared.


	9. Chapter 9

The end of Michelle's imposed bed rest could not have come sooner. Being able to actually go outside was finally allowing her to discover more of the community she'd been brought into, Alexandria was a strangely idyllic place and other than Daryl's group, most of the inhabitants had been there since the very beginning. In a way, she envied them, many still had their entire families intact, some even still had their pets. They lived in big houses, had barely ever felt hunger and continued to enjoy life as if the world hadn't died off just outside the walls, but at the same time, getting to live such a gilded life inside the walls meant they truly did not understand the dangers of this new world. It was hard to relate to most of them, especially when she saw the look on many of their faces as they watched Daryl as if he was some sort of freak. It was easy to understand why her friend wasn't a fan of this place.

At least twice already she'd found herself defending him against some comments she'd heard; comments that had been made behind his back, of course. He was so different of what they knew that they couldn't even understand how lucky they were to have him amongst them. They were afraid of him, judging him and it made her blood boil in her veins.

Luckily, the two Alexandrians she had to interact with the most, Jessie and Olivia, either didn't view her friend that way or, if they did, at least they were smart enough not to say anything in front of her. Everyday now she would get up, have breakfast with Daryl and Carol, and then make her slow way toward the pantry where she'd check the inventory. Making sure food, guns and ammo were all accounted for and, except for a few she'd been warned had gone missing, the numbers stayed boringly normal, same thing with the medicine in the infirmary. Useless was the main word that came to mind when she thought of her job here; people on the construction or run crews or even those on gate duty all helped protect everyone and she was filling out paperwork. It felt like a post-apocalyptic version of her old life.

At the end of the day, she'd make her way by Aaron and Eric's place, the two people she enjoyed most in the Safe Zone, probably because they knew what it was like out there and because they treated everybody with respect. Daryl would most often be working in their garage, putting the last few touches to a bike that was, oh-so very him, and as soon as he'd see her down the road, he'd bid the guys goodbye, wipe some of the motor oil off - always missing a spot or two as he went - and would fall into step with her. That evening though, as she made her way home, the garage door was closed and there no sign Daryl anywhere, Michelle began accelerating as much as her crutches would allow her, fear gripping her insides. After so long out there, the first thought in one's mind was always that something awful had happened.

It was only once she was almost at the house, her heart pounding in her chest and throat so tight it was almost hard to breath that she spotted him, sitting on the steps with a cigarette between his lips. As soon as he saw her, and how flustered she appeared, he stood from his seat, frowning as he asked her if everything was alright. Needless to say, she felt rather stupid for her overreaction. With a hint of embarrassed blush rising to her cheek, which hopefully would be covered by how flush she was from her quick pace, she sat down with him.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," she assured him as he joined her on the steps. She gave herself a second to catch her breath before admitting to what had just happened. "I went by Aaron's and the garage door was closed... I assumed the worst and... I freaked out a bit."

Daryl looked at her with an expression she didn't recognize before taking another drag from his cigarette. "It's their anniversary," he informed her, nodding his head toward the house down the road. "Yesterday, Eric said he was planning something for Aaron. ...I didn't want to be in the way."

Shaking her head a bit, she couldn't help but chuckle lightly. Anniversary dinners. One more thing she never expected to even hear about again. One of those things she'd assumed had died with most of the population but in here, just like so many things she thought gone, they seemed to survive.

They sat in silence for a minute or so, just watching the sun slow decent toward the horizon as people who had been outside the walls made their way home. They both rised a hand as a silent hello as Glenn, Tara and Noah walked by, it was easy to see how people in a place like this could let themselves forget what was out there.

"Do you have another one of those?" She asked after a moment, pointing to his cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked," he commented, pulling the pack out of his pocket and handing her one as well as his lighter.

"I stopped years ago," she said as she light up, taking a long drag and nearly choking as she did. It had definitely been a while, but by the third puff, it was like riding a bike. "At this point though, I don't think lung cancer is likely to be the thing that does me in..."

A thought crossed her mind, making her chuckle under her breath. Some things truly didn't change even now. He caught her eyes with his brows coming together, silently asking what was amusing her.

"Back in the days, there was a Bowie song that would always sort of play in my head as I smoked and it seems something like that just get wired into your brain, because here it is again..."

"Sing it." The words left Daryl's lips before he could stop them and, along with the horrified expression on her face, quickly prompted him to add, "C'mon, I ain't gonna laugh or anything."

Michelle shook her head, assuring him that he truly didn't want to hear that, especially not when the last person he had heard sing was Beth. "I wouldn't want to ruin music for you for the rest of your life," she added, before telling him about how her father used to tease her about her tone-deafness by howling like a hurt dog whenever she would start signing. She laughed at the story, as if it was a cherished memory, but it woke up something deep in him, making him wish he could have had a few words with her father before his death about this.

"I'm sure it ain't that bad."

She looked at him for a second and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd pushed too much, but then she was telling him how he'd brought this on himself and in a low, almost whispered, she began to sing.

" _Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth_

_You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette_

_The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget_

_Ohh how how how, you're a rock 'n' roll suicide..._ "

She closed her eyes, and he listened quietly as she tried her best to carry the tune. She was right, of course, she was far from a good singer, especially as she had mentioned when Beth's soft, lovely voice had been the last he'd heard. Michelle's, in comparison, was lower than most women he knew and constantly jumping from key to key despite her best efforts, but still, it had the same effect on him as her reading, making him just want to sit there and listen for as long as she was willing to keep going.

This time though, it was cut abruptly short, halfway through a line about not letting the sun blast your shadow, as Carol approached the front porch, coming back from her round of food delivery and returning with a stack of glass containers. He stood first, going ahead of her and helping her with some of them while Michelle got back to her feet, hopping for a moment before settling on her crutches. Now that the last member of their household was back, they made their way up the stairs as yet another day in Alexandria ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I do not own the rights to David Bowie's _Rock 'n Rock Suicide_.


	10. Chapter 10

It was strange, being alone in Alexandria. Well, technically she wasn't actually alone, there were tons of people around but with Daryl gone with Aaron for the first time since they'd found each other again, Michelle couldn't help the loneliness she felt. She knew it was ridiculous to have this sort of reaction, especially since she'd known for a while that this day would come but now that it was here, it felt even more unsettling than she had expected.

She'd seen the two of them off in the morning along with Eric, her fellow crutches user as Aaron liked to call them as they hobbled their way behind Daryl and him. She knew Aaron was a good man, and he had to be able to hold his own out there otherwise Daryl would not have him watching his back but still, the idea of him being outside the walls while she was stuck inside didn't sit right with her. She knew she'd be a liability in her current state but she wanted nothing more than to leave with them. A little voice inside her head kept reminding her of all that could happen to someone out in the world. The injuries. The walkers. The people... All those things could snuff out a life faster than anyone could prevent. And even though having separation anxiety from someone who, in all honestly, despite how important he was to her, she barely knew seemed extreme and at the limit of pathetic, she couldn't help it. She simply couldn't lose one more person she cared about.

With all the willpower she could muster, she was able to resist the urge to ask Daryl to be be careful out there, to come back alive. Instead, she stood the side and she watched her friend getting on the bike he had been working on for so long before driving it out of the gate for its inaugural voyage; the whole time wishing she was riding behind him.

She'd planned to spend the day with Eugene, talking to the scientist would be a good way to keep her mind occupied and distracted from constant worrying. Despite how awkward and a little odd, he could be at times, she enjoyed the mulleted man's company. They had interests in common, similar taste in books and movies and it was nice to have someone understand the many obscure references she sometime slipped into conversations in hope that someone would catch them. She'd been made aware of the fact he had lied about a cure in order to gain and keep Abraham's protection and, even though others found that despicable, she thought it was quite a smart play actually. Plus, the idea that the world wasn't going back to normal any time soon was, somehow, easier for her to handle than the idea of it actually getting fixed, which likely said something rather bad about her. But unfortunately, her distraction plan was short-lived when Aiden all but forced Eugene to tag along on their supply run.

With a sigh and a wish of luck, she watched as he piled into the back of the van along with Tara, Noah and Glenn. Four more people she'd be worrying about until their return. She knew that, except for Eugene, they could handle themselves, and that they'd protect the scientist but as the van pulled away, she once again felt useless. She stood in the street for a moment longer while Maggie and Deanna headed off to do whatever it was they did all day and soon it was just her and Deanna's husband whose name she couldn't quite remember.

"You'd rather be out there, huh?"

Snapping out of her uneasy thoughts, she turned toward the man before nodding. Her expression had to have betrayed her, hopefully though, he'd only seen how worried she was for her comrades and not the unexplainable longing she felt to be on the other side of the wall. That was something better kept hidden, something she couldn't admit to anyone, except for Daryl, who'd likely be the only person who'd understand. No one should want to be out there, when they could be safe in here, but she did regardless.

"If you want, I could say a few words to Deanna about putting you on the run crew... when you're back on your feet, of course," the older man added with a gentle smile that reminded her of her father's. The thought of him tightened her throat, and she found herself unable to speak for a moment.

"Thank you," she replied, in a strangled voice before clearing her throat. "That'd be great."

As the day went on, minutes seemed to stretch on longer and longer with every passing one. She couldn't focus on anything for more than a few moments. No books could hold her attention. There was no inventory to be done, no chores she could help with either. And sleep was simply not an option. So she sat on the steps of the house, a cigarette she'd stolen from Daryl slowly dying between her lips as she watched the front gate, as if trying to will it to open with her only her mind. She just wished they would all just return already. Even though she knew it was unlikely... As soon as the thought had formed in her mind, the gate opened as if by magic... and right away she knew something was wrong. She should know better, by now, than to wish for anything...

\---

Two deads. Noah and Deanna's son. And poor Tara was in a bad way. This was bad and everybody knew it even if no one was saying anything yet. She stood on the porch of the infirmary along with most of Daryl's group. She observed as the group worried and as the Alexandrians walking around in the background whispered between themselves. If it hadn't been clear before that there were two groups living in behind these walls, it was now.

Her eyes moved over the group, taking in how everyone reacted to the situation. Glenn looked like he was about to pull his hair out, running his hands through it over and over as he tried to get a glimpse of what was happening inside. Maggie, of course, stood by his side, speaking hushed words in his ear to try and help calm him or relieve some of the guilt he was, no doubt, feeling. Rosita was holding on to Abraham as if he was a buoy in the middle of the sea, tears running along her pretty face as the tall ginger tried to remain impassible. Michonne was pacing just off the porch while Rick stared stone faced at the door. Sasha was still up in the bell tower, keeping them safe from her perch, Michelle wasn't even sure anyone had told her about what had happened yet... As for Eugene, he was sitting down a bench near her, sobbing quietly with his face in hands. From what she'd overheard Glenn say, he'd all but assured that Tara was back here with them, but despite that uncharacteristic act of bravery, the young woman could still slip away at any moment.

She moved closer to him, in the gap left by Carol who had just taken Carl and the baby back to their house for the night. Carefully, she reached out and placed a hand on the man's shaking shoulder. It wasn't much, but she hoped it might offer some comfort and, in a way, she herself needed comforting even if she'd never come out and say it. She liked Tara, who'd always been nice to her. And Noah had been a sweet, capable young man who deserved better than the horrible death he'd gotten. But, also, she needed comfort whenever her thoughts moved from inside the walls to outside, to where Daryl was, unaware of what had happened here. Clenching her jaws and fighting back a tear that still managed to escape and roll down her cheek, she crossed her fingers that her friend would make it back to them alive and in one piece.


	11. Chapter 11

It was getting late by the time they first spotted a sign of someone else in the area. They'd driven for hours, and were further from Alexandria than Aaron had ever gone, and all they could find were walkers. Daryl could tell that the other man was getting discouraged and, honestly, he was starting to feel it too. He knew there had to be more people left than those back in the Safe Zone but, it was clear that the dead exponentially outnumbered the living at this point and they'd likely have to go even further out now to find those who remained.

As they stepped into the clearing, his finger pressed on the trigger of the crossbow, taking down the walker ahead in one silent shot. Taking back the bolt, he listened as Aaron finally voiced his demoralization at the lack of signs that anyone was still around when something caught his eye. Shushing the other man, he pointed to the fire in the distance, like a little light at the end of a tunnel. It was hard to say how far away it really was, but it still brought the faintest of smiles to his lips. Now they had a heading, a direction to follow that would help them in their search, and suddenly, they both felt their energy coming back to them as they began the slow trek toward whoever was waiting by that fire.

That task, as it turned out, was more than either of them had expected. The fire was much further away than they'd thought and about halfway to it, its owner extinguished it. They still had a direction, but stumbling in the dark upon people they didn't know simply wasn't the smartest of plan. They would sleep out in the clearing tonight, rather than walking all the way back to the car and sleeping in it as they'd planned. Daryl offered to take first watch as Aaron yawned, that boost of energy leaving him as quickly as it had appeared.

He sat there, on the hard ground, partially hidden from the world by the long weeds moving in the wind, listening for any sign of movement, anything that could be headed their way and wanting to cause them harm, but other than the breeze and the chipping of insects, there was nothing to be heard. Sighing softly, he tilted his head back, looking up at the stars while his sleeping companion began to snore.

One of the things Aaron had told him, when he'd brought the idea of him becoming Alexandria's second recruiter, was that he didn't belong out here and he'd seemed to truly believe that, but as Daryl looked up at the sky, feeling the wind in his hair and on his cheeks, he couldn't help but doubt that sentiment. Out here, outside the walls, he felt at home and mostly at peace, even when walkers chased them, or when they had to take on another group. That felt real. Alexandria, on the other hand, felt like some sort of bubble filled with so many of the things - and people - he used to look down on before the world shifted. It was just stifling.

He knew some members of their group were better off inside the walls, the ones who couldn't seem to defend themselves and survive in this world otherwise, like Gabriel and Eugene, and baby Judith, of course. But everyone else, even Carl, he felt they'd be better off out here. Even if it wasn't as safe, this was real. And when the walls around Alexandria will have attracted some other group or when they'll have fallen down, they'll all be back to this and it'd be best for all of them to stay ready rather than trying to play pretend that the world was still the same as it used to be.

But, of course, if baby Judith stayed inside, it meant Rick and Carl and Michonne would stay as well, and if Eugene remained there, regardless of the lies he told, Abraham and Rosita would stick around for him. And then, there was Maggie, who seemed to be back to her old self now that she'd began working with Deanna, and so, with her inside the walls, Glenn wouldn't go anywhere, and Tara and Noah either. That left Carol, himself, Sasha and Michelle who'd probably consider being out here again, and Carol wouldn't leave the group like that. She was their best protection and she knew it. As for Sasha, he wasn't sure there was any place where she'd be better off. She wasn't doing well since Bob and Tyrese's deaths and they all knew it, but no one of a way to reach her. He wished he could because he'd seen the look her eyes before, from some of the guys from Merle's old unit, the ones who'd gone to combat and hadn't fully returned... the ones who were still at war inside their heads and who didn't know how to make it stop... the ones who ended up "opting out" as Dr. Jenner had said a long time ago.

And then, there was Michelle. She'd happier out here, he just knew it. Hell, he'd seen it in those dark eyes of hers earlier when she'd come to see them off, how badly she wanted to go with them. In all honesty, he wished she was here right now, machete on her hip, and walking stick in hand even as she slept. As soon she'd be able to walk without her crutches, he'd make sure Aaron asked Deanna to have her moved from that inventory duty she hated and onto their little recruitment team. Not only would it be nice to have her here because she would be useful, but it would also help calm that nagging feeling he couldn't seem to shake, that maybe she wouldn't be there when he got back. He knew what she said, that she was done with being alone but he'd believed that before and she'd just up and left after they'd already lost so much just hours earlier. It would be a while before he could trust the fact that she was planning to stick around.

A yawn slipped from his lips and he realized just how tired he was, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. With a sharp shake to Aaron's leg, he woke up the other man to over watch duty and laid down on his side on the hard ground. As he laid there, the wind hit his back, making him shiver and he couldn't help but think that there would be one more positive to having Michelle out here with them. Something that he would never admit anyone, not even her, something he'd only recently admitted to himself... that he did never slept better than on those nights when her back had been pressed against his.


	12. Chapter 12

There had always been a divide between them and the Alexandrians, or least, it had been that way since she'd arrived. But as the sun rose on the Safe Zone and Michelle began humbling her way over to the pantry to help Olivia with inventory, this divide began to feel more like an actual tear in the community than anything else. Most their group had spent part of the night up, waiting on news of Tara's situation, hoping the young woman would not add to the death toll of that run. As of now, there was still no indication of if or when she would be back on her feet and she hoped for everyone's sake that she would make it. Losing her, on top of Noah, would break the group's heart, especially Glenn and Eugene's who had tried their best to get her back here alive.

As she made her way down the street past the Monroe's home, she spotted the casserole Carol had been making when she'd gotten home the night before sitting on the porch, untouched. She frowned at the sight, something about it made her uneasy; if Deanna was reject their group after what happened to her son, she could choose to throw them out of the community and Michelle had the strong feeling that the group would not let that happen. There would be a fight, most likely a slaughter of those foolish enough to take on Rick and the others, and just the thought of it made her hands shake on the handles of the crutches. She stopped in the middle of the street, taking deep breaths to try and collect herself. The idea of witnessing, or worst, having to participate in another bloodbath made her head spin, bringing back horrible images to the forefront of her mind.

"Shelley? Are you alright?"

At the sound of the nickname, she found herself back in the center of the road, panting as the flashbacks faded away and Glenn's worried face came into view. Catching her breath, she nodded, unable to speak just yet but wanting to reassure him that she was, in fact, okay. Being with this group had been a roller coaster ever since she'd spotted Daryl and Beth by that shack, what felt like a lifetime ago; on the one hand, they were part of the reason she'd witnessed so much death, but on the other, as Glenn was showing her now, they were there for each other and cared for them as well... even for one of their newest member, one who had left them without so much as a goodbye.

"I'm okay," she finally managed to say. "I just... I got lost in my thoughts, I guess..."

It didn't explain much in the way of why she'd been standing almost paralyzed there, or why she'd been hyperventilating, but Glenn didn't question her answer, simply looked at her for a moment, as if to make sure she was indeed alright. She could even began to say how thankful she was for that.

"Were you going to see Tara?" He asked, falling into step with her as she began moving again. He had to take smaller steps than usual to stay by her side, but he didn't seem to mind. She realized in that moment that she didn't know much about Glenn, other than him being Maggie's husband and, according to Daryl, the best person to have on a run crew. That realization left her feeling a little ashamed, she'd joined up with them but still kept her distance from actually getting to know the majority of them.

"Not right now," she admitted as they reached the infirmary. "I have to get to the pantry and help Olivia with inventory this morning. I was going to go and see if there were any news after my shift though..."

"I'll come by and let you and the others know if anything has changed," he responded, nodding his head as if he was agreeing with himself, as if he was making it a personal mission.

She thanked him and continued on her way, glancing back over her shoulder to see him disappear inside the building where she'd spent more time than she would have liked upon her arrival. _She and the others_ , that was what he'd said and it felt strange to even think of herself as part of their group, even now, but Glenn obviously thought of her as one of theirs. So did Daryl, of course. He'd even told her as much, she hadn't believed him then, but maybe it was time to start believing this to be true. Maybe she did have her place with this group. With that thought in mind, and a hint of a smile on her lips, she made her way into the pantry, ready for another mind-bogglingly dull inventory.

\---

The incredible ruckus outside alerted Olivia and her that something was very wrong. Dropping their clipboards, the two of them headed toward the commotion as quickly as they could, which in Michelle's case was not nearly as fast as she would have liked. Once again, she silently cursed the crutches she had to rely on until her knee was healed. As she finally reached the main road though, a crowd of people had began assembling in the street and, at first, she wasn't quite sure of what she was seeing. There were people screaming and someone crying, a broken window and balcony and in the center of it all, the doctor, Pete, was strangling a bloodied Rick right there on the pavement.

She watched as Jessie tried to pull her husband away, only to be smacked away, which Rick a chance to get the upper hand. Seeing him like that, with blood all over his face as he was now, brought back terrifying memories from the night she'd first met the man, the night when he tore out Joe's throat with his bare teeth. There was the same crazed look in his eyes then as there was now, she could just tell he was about to kill Pete unless someone stepped in. And then someone did, Carl, Rick's own son, and for the first time, she saw him violently push the boy back.

That was when she arrived, Deanna, shouting at them to stop this, with fire in her eyes and in her voice. The same feeling she'd experienced earlier, that fear caused by the divide in the two factions of the community, came back, stronger than ever. As Rick stood, maniacally waving a gun around and ranting, she just knew this would get them certainly kicked out, there was no way around it. And with that thought, another, deeper panic settled into her; what if Daryl returned only to find them all gone? She couldn't allow that to happen! She wasn't going to let anyone separate them, not after they'd been lucky enough to find each other again. If Deanna chose to throw them out, she would fight along with the group to stay.

Those thoughts raced through her mind, readying herself for what would come next when suddenly Michonne stepped forward, and just like that, Rick was on the ground and the hypothetical slaughter in her head was fading away. This wasn't over, that much was certain, but for now, they were still here and hopefully Daryl would be return before the other shoe dropped.


End file.
